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Prana By: The Lady of The Night Out Why should you eat at Prana? Now that the years provide a safe distance, Americans are eager to learn the truth about a place called Viet Nam. The Broadway play, Miss Saigon, which just left the Aladdin, is staging a comeback. Memoirs like “Upcountry,” a great novel by Nelson de Mille, are best sellers. This curiosity extends to food. Helene An’s story is true, although it sounds like it came from one of De Mille’s thrillers. She was the youngest of 17 children of the provincial governor and a member of Viet Nam’s ancient royal family. As a little girl, she played in the kitchen with the family’s three chefs – French, Chinese, and Vietnamese – and learned to cook. In April, 1975, there was a knock on the door of the Saigon mansion. The Ans had one hour to escape the Communists who were taking control of the city. The family fled to San Francisco, where Helene’s mother-in-law was already running a small restaurant called Thanh Long. Fast forward to today. Daughter Hannah An and her husband Danny Vu have opened the family’s first restaurant outside California. They’ve named it Prana, the Hindu word for the “life energy.” The food, the atmosphere, and the attitude recreate the glamorous world of French Colonial Viet Nam. In fact, Prana pays visual homage to the Metropole, a legendary upper crust supper club in Hanoi. LVNV is so good at pretending to be Paris or Camelot. It’s a stunning shock to get a taste of the real thing. Prana serves authentic Euro-Asian cooking, created at a time when fusion cuisine was simply the natural cross-pollination of two cohabiting cultures. It’s a delicious taste of culinary history. Who should eat at Prana?
Who shouldn’t eat at Prana?
Ok, so what’s the food like? The menu is divided into two distinct segments. The first section features small plates, tappas-style. The second list showcases standard entrees. The idea is to mix and match so everyone at the table gets a taste. Garlic noodles is the signature dish. Sand colored coils are seemingly injected with fresh garlic; the taste washes over you in waves. To many Californians like Warren Beatty, garlic noodles are a religion. It seems every restaurant in town except McDonald’s is serving sushi. Prana, however, slices the best yellowtail tuna in town. An serves the hamachi carpaccio-style (that means sliced razor thin) in a simple lemon zest vinaigrette. The lemon serves as an arrow of tartness for the deep, buttery richness of the tuna. This I could eat by the pound. Since I’m a pushover for meaty mollusks, I had to try the New Zealand green lip mussels. The mussels, served in their shell, are bathed in a garlicky pesto and then broiled. The garlic and basil really encouraged the taste of the mussels to come out of their shell. This dish receives my “Big O” award. If you like foie gras and have a permit from your cardiologist, order it here. Cooked rare, the silky, slithery goose liver sat on a bed of smoked banana puree. What a great combo! The bananas added a restrained sweetness to the over-the-top intensity of the foie gras. I rarely eat chicken in restaurants since it usually flies in as a rubber duck. But you have to try the pouisson, a whole baby chicken the size of a game hen. The tender meat on this tiny creature was so sweet it must have been fed honey. Chef Chris baths it in a chicken reduction to intensify the poultry flavor. Heavenly. I was surprised to discover the restaurant serves great steaks. I didn’t sample one, but the woman next to me had a filet shaped like a chimney that had to be six inches high. The waiter didn’t even hand her a steak knife. She cut her meat with her fork. Dessert in the desert: Five flavors of crème brulee are torched in individual Oriental soup spoons, so the indecisive can have ‘em all. I loved the banana mousse. It’s a light, fluffy concoction perfect for triple digit heat. Since it’s accessorized with chocolate, that makes it perfect. History: After 20 years behind the woks at her mother-in-law’s restaurant, Helene opened Crustacean, a Vietnamese seafood restaurant in 1991. She opened a Crustacean near her home in Beverly Hills in 1997. It was an instant cult success in San Francisco. The last word: Eating at Prana is like taking a trip in a time machine. You can taste the French Colonial influence – all that’s missing are those ceiling fans from the film “Casablanca.” The food is extraordinary. There’s nothing in LVNV quite like it. It’s true Asian fusion – a natural mating of French and Vietnamese cuisine. But with Prana’s over-the-top undertow, there’s a taste of Vegas, too. Where is it? In the Desert Passage of the Aladdin Resort and Casino. There’s an exterior entrance on Harmon if you’re cruising the Strip and don’t want to deal with the shopping mall. 3663 Las Vegas Boulevard South. 702.650.0507. www.pranalasvegas.com.  By: The Culinary Curmudgeon Nevada has a health insurance crisis. All the great physicians are fleeing the state because their malpractice premiums are so high they can’t afford to eat in our city’s fress to impress establishments. So Prana at the Aladdin opened none too soon. Helene An, Prana’s chef/proprietor, learned the ancient healing arts from the palace chefs who worked for her father during the glory days of French Indochina. She has designed all the dishes at Prana to promote your health as well as her economic health. A votre sante! Now I have to figure out to convince my health insurer to pick up my Prana tab. Who says we don’t have culture in casinos? There isn’t a museum in town that can match the beautiful pieces at Prana, especially the furnishings upstairs. I suggest the Ans invest in those cool audio thingies they have at Shark Reef. Just number the beautiful furniture so we can conduct our own guided tours. The fabulous furniture showed me a side of Viet Nam I had never seen before. My sole knowledge of the country was the live war coverage on TV back in the ‘70s and really flattering movies like Full Metal Jacket, Apocalypse Now and Good Morning, Viet Nam. I’ll have to ask Robin Williams the next time he’s in town if he recognizes any of the dishes at Prana. Prana’s biggest fault is it’s located in the Desert Passage. It’s a huge hike from the parking lot to the restaurant’s front door. Until the landlords install a moving sidewalk, you have to hoof it. My existential question is: how do you get there wearing anything but athletic footwear? The night I supped, the place was packed with trendy Gen-Xers perched on stilettos. My feet hurt wearing my soft Italian loafers. Those women must have booked a pedicure or taken the pedicab. By the way, I’ll tell all of you. I have a secret kitchen, too. In fact, the door’s locked and even I can’t get in. That forces me to eat out all the time. Quel dommage. As for the food, it’s simply remarkable. The only thing I didn’t like was the foie gras. It was served rare! Quel horreur! I don’t care what you call it, it’s still liver. That’s the organ that purifies everything in your system. It’s one thing I don’t want to eat pink. Which reminds me. When are we going to forgive the French? No one understands food better than the French. C’est vrai! Aired 13 June 2003
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